Moonlight over Manhattan (From Manhattan with Love 6)

Ethan opened the door but didn’t walk into the room. “If I step inside this room are you going to throw food at my head?”

“I don’t know. It depends on what you say when you step in here.”

“Would an apology work?” His smile was crooked. “I seem to spend my life apologizing to you. Believe it or not, I’m not usually this bad with people.”

“So I bring out the worst in you?” She wasn’t going to be charmed by that smile. Absolutely not.

“It’s not you, so much as the circumstances.” Ethan glanced down as Madi, who pushed her nose against his leg. “My life has changed quite a bit over the past couple of days. I think I’m still getting over the shock.” He crouched down to stroke Madi’s head. “There, Madi. Lovely Madi.”

“That’s not going to work this time.” But at least he was trying. She relented. “It’s not easy having an animal around when you’re not used to it.”

“It’s not just Madi. I’ve lived on my own for a long time. I’m used to being in my own space and doing what I want to do when I want to do it.”

He made living alone sound like the ultimate indulgence.

Harriet was in that position too, and so far she hated it.

“You like living on your own?”

He glanced at her. “Yes. It’s easy. I don’t have to think about anyone but myself. I’d be the first to admit I’m not good at compromising. Nor am I used to walking through the door to the delicious smells of home cooking. I made assumptions that were totally wrong.”

His apology disarmed her as much as his honesty. She thought about the dates she’d been on, and the lies people had told to make themselves look better. She didn’t understand how relationships were ever supposed to work if people weren’t honest about who they were. What was the point of pretending to be interested in reading if you never picked up a book? Why lie about what work you did, or your income or your age? If you had to pretend to be someone different, how was that ever going to work?

With that in mind, she was honest too.

“You weren’t wrong. I did assume you would want to eat too. And it was stupid of me.”

“Not stupid at all. A reasonable assumption that I’d be hungry, and a kind gesture to cook. You were thoughtful. And kind. And I was a jerk.” He stared at the food on the tray. “What is it?”

“It’s boeuf bourguignon. A French dish of beef marinated in wine and herbs.”

“It smells good.”

Discovering a wicked streak she hadn’t even known she had, Harriet took another mouthful and savored it. “It tastes good. Deliciously warming after being out in the cold.”

He laughed. “You’re a cruel woman.”

“I intended to share it with you. You made it clear I’d overstepped the mark. How does that make me cruel?”

“You want me to apologize again? Grovel?”

Harriet took another mouthful and pondered. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I think I do.”

“Please, Harriet, may I help myself to a bowl of your beef whatever-it’s-called?”

She finished her bowl. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have enough?”

“I have more than enough. But feeding you casserole might be dangerous.” She put her bowl on the tray and stood up. “I’m a seriously good cook. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then you’d fall in love with me and then we’d both be in trouble because there is no way I’d ever go on a date with you.” She had no idea why she was teasing him. Or was it flirting? It wasn’t something she was even aware she knew how to do.

The way he smiled back at her told her he knew everything there was to know about flirting.

“My knowledge of anatomy is excellent. I know that you don’t get to the heart through the stomach, so we’re both safe.” He left the room and she followed him.

Downstairs, she put her empty plate on the counter and watched as he served himself a generous portion of food.

Was she supposed to join him? Watch him eat?